


Last Moon

by fondofit



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Metal Gear
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/M, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fondofit/pseuds/fondofit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short stories that occur during the night of The Hunt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vial

**Author's Note:**

> The result of me being too hyped up over MGSV and playing a lot of Bloodborne. I'm probably going to continue to add short stories here and there.

His vision is hazy as he wakes from a deep, ether-induced slumber. The first thing Kaz sees in the glow of candlelight is the shadow of Ocelot spinning his pistols in his leather covered hands. He’s in full Hunter garb, meaning the Hunt must still be on. The shadows on the wall, however, make him nervous. As he closes his eyes, he remembers being in a cold room, tied down to a table, an IV hooked into what was left of his left arm, awaiting the inevitable. He takes a deep breath as he realizes he’s now sitting in a wheelchair covered in a warm blanket, not laid out on an operating table. He starts trying to regulate his breathing, hoping it will calm his frantically beating heart.

When he turns back to the companion in his room, he finds Ocelot looking back at him.

“Didn’t think you’d be up so soon.”

Ocelot’s voice is muffled by the ridiculous blood red scarf swathed around his neck. Despite not being a full fledged member of the Healing Church, his drive for the hunt is more of a personal sadistic pleasure than the call of blood. Ocelot moves close, kneeling down in front of him in order to look into his face. It’s uncomfortable to have this sort of attention on him when he’s trying to keep himself grounded. Kaz leans back a little in his chair, pulling on the blanket covering his body. He sucks in a deep breath as a blinding pain runs up his right shoulder. Too much movement for the sorry condition he is in.

“I’d rather be back asleep. Though I can do without the dreams.” Kaz says through his teeth. The pain is making him light headed, but he’s afraid to close his eyes again. He could almost see the pale-blond woman standing over him. Her kind voice tinged with a madness that’s become so normal with the citizens of Yharnam. He turns his focus back to Ocelot.

“Only in the Hunter’s Dream, may we sleep soundly.” Ocelot murmurs to both Kaz and himself while he looks over Kaz’s injuries. “You’re lucky he found you when he did. She could have done a number on you.”

Kaz doesn’t need to know how Big Boss had found him. He only feels the relief that the man did and that he is alive. He looks at his arm, bandaged up to his shoulder. She must have been taking as much blood as she could before she attempted any experimenting. He saw the creatures haunting that clinic; the misshapen heads, white glowing eyes… Kaz shudders, just thinking about it. He’s grateful for the help, but he knows that Ocelot needs to move on. That there’s really no pace in this damned land that’s a safe haven, but for now he’s out of harm’s way.

“You have a syringe?”

Ocelot pauses, but nods. He pulls one out of the packs he has attached to his belt. “You never know,” He adds as he hands it to Kaz’s outstretched left hand.

“Give me a hand,” Kaz says as he motions with his head to the left arm. Ocelot moves to roll up his sleeve, takes the syringe and on Kaz’s “Do it” he begins to draw Kaz’s blood.

His blood doesn’t have the special qualities that a pale blood might have, but he’s known for years that he has a type of blood that will invigorate those use it. He watches out of the corne of his eye as the needle is pulled away and the blood emptied into a vial. After stopping the vial, Ocelot turns back to him, pulls his scarf down and leans in to lick the blood running down Kaz’s arm. He feels his arm twitch at the feeling, but focuses Ocelot’s licking ministrations to allow him to relax and forget about his injury

Eventually, Kaz groans out an, “Enough, “ and Ocelot steps back, bringing the scarf up to cover his mouth.

“I’ll be sure to get this to him.” Ocelot says as he pockets the vial. “You’d better hold up here until I get back. This place is about as safe as can be once I lock up.” He puts on his Hunter’s hat, before turning to leave, but pauses at the door. There he turns and says, “Thanks for the little pick me up.”

Kaz feels the laugh stick in the back of his throat, but he manages, “Just make sure he gets that. I’ll be here.”

And with the locking of the door and the sound of retreating footsteps, Kaz is left alone with the nightmares both inside his mind and outside the doors.


	2. Dusk

As Sundown leads itself into late evening, the city streets slowly become covered in a foggy mist. The inhabitants of Yharnam are all affected by the darkness of night; with the rising of the moon, they succumb to their psychical illnesses and madness. Voices echo down the city streets from those stuck inside their homes. Then there are the voices of those who roam the streets, turned into beasts from the blood borne strains of the plague. On this night, hunt is on and no one is safe.

Ocelot finds John not far from the Grand Cathedral. He’s seated on the top steps, the corpses of the Cathedral Guards lie in the way. From the towering archway, Ocelot can tell that John has just finished taking down his prey. His black cloak is covered in blood, but he pays it no mind as he smokes his cigar, observing the town below as he exhales. Ocelot makes sure that John is aware of his arrival.

When he finally makes it to the top of the staircase, Ocelot decides to sit close by, taking in John’s state of mind. “How’s the Hunt tonight?”

John looks at him over his cigar, blows out a long drag of smoke before replying, “The Vicar is dead.”

Ocelot tries not to look impressed, so he takes out one of his pistols and starts spinning it. He focuses on the movements, thinking over his words before saying, “And you’re prepared for what comes next?”

John laughs a low, guttural noise that Ocelot can feel echoing through him. He really loves it when he hears that cocksure tone in John’s voice. He’s not even sure the man is aware of it, but for the countless years that Ocelot’s been following him, there are time where he will be sure sure of himself that any sort of questions leading to the contrary are met with total bewilderment. John will make it through this nightmare; beasts and hunters be damned. 

“Come on now, Ocelot, the night’s still young. We haven’t even brought the Blood Moon forth yet.” John brings his cigar down to the marble steps and snuffs the light out. He stands, his presence, Ocelot thinks, is everything that his title encompasses. 

Ocelot stands and pockets his pistol. “I’ve got two things for you then.” John turns to look at him giving his full attention. Ocelot almost wishes he could stay and talk about nothing, but the Hunt beckons the Hunter, points back towards the Tomb of Oedon.

“Henryk’s been spotted over by the Tomb. I’d keep an eye out if you’re ever planning on going back there. He’s… probably not going to be in a good mood. Especially if he’s figured out what’s happened to Gascoigne.”

“At least Gascoigne can finally rest.”

“But Henryk can’t.” Ocelot adds, before reaching into his pocket. He pulls out something wrapped in gauze and holds it out to John. “This is a gift.”

John looks at the small package in his hand, but doesn’t move to take it.

“It’s from Kaz. He told me to give this to you.”

There’s hesitation there, Ocelot can see it in his one good eye. It comes as a relief really. The intake of blood, despite how careful one can be, always puts a user at risk. And despite Kaz’s good intentions, there is always a chance the user could become a slave to the blood or become a beast. Neither situation has a pleasant outcome.

“Hold onto it for me.” John says after a minute. Ocelot feels the words of retort stick in his throat as he watches John pull the trick saw from his back. “I’ll let you know when I need it. Tell Kaz, I’ll be back.”

Ocelot watches John, no, Snake descend the steps without a word. He pockets the vial and starts making his way back to Kaz. He’ll track John down again, when he is sure he is needed.


	3. Books

Kaz sits in a dark room surrounded by dusty tomes, the glow of a lantern just gives him enough light to read. This room was once occupied by the followers of the Healing Church, this much he has discovered through reading the various titles and registries. He sighs and leans back in his seat as his vision starts to blur. Kaz realizes he’s been pushing himself too hard. His injuries are still on the mend, but being the only one in charge while Big Boss is away... he willingly makes the sacrifice. 

The Hunt has brought fewer people to the base despite the desperation the night brings. Ocelot, Kaz remembers, said that this would likely be the case. Most people won’t survive the night of the Hunt.

_“The Great Ones don’t have much regard for our lives.” Ocelot says while looking at the sunset. He turns to point at Kaz’s missing arm and adds, “Most of the townspeople will be too out of their minds to care either. The plague isn’t the only thing that’s infecting Yharnam.”_

Kaz looks outside the dirty window to see the calming glow of the moon overhead. It’s a soft, but bright white that engulfs the entire the town. Yharnam will survive the Hunt; he’s just not sure if they, Diamond Dogs, will.

\--- 

It's hours before anything disturbs Kaz at his work. A soft tapping of boots alerts him towards the closed door of his room. He intentionally didn’t lock the door; he figures he’d face whatever decided to disturb him with all the ferocity he could muster in his state. He lets out the breath he was holding when the door creaks open and Ocelot walks in as if he were to be expected.

Kaz looks at him approach and frowns. 

“You didn’t give him the vial.”

Ocelot’s face betrays few emotions, but Kaz could see in his eyes the frustration and almost childish resentment burning in him. “I offered, but he wouldn’t take it.” He pats the side of his pack where the vial must be packaged and continues, “You know how he is with his blood ministrations. He told me to hold onto it for him.”

Kaz turns his focus back on the books open in front of him and marks his place. Now that Ocelot was here, there was no point in trying to work any further.

“Well, when you see him, tell him there’s no problem getting him more if he wants it.”  


Ocelot nods, taking off his leather overcoat. There’s blood from Ocelot’s venture that paints the outer coat, Kaz notices, blood so thick and sticky it almost looks black. He can smell the iron tinge of it in the air. Ocelot pulls off his leather gloves slowly, careful of the dried blood that covers the fingers. They are tossed onto the tabletop, stirring a thin layer of dust up into the air. He turns around and moves to the door, closing and locking it with a click. He seems to visibly relax, breathing in deeply, despite the dust, before turning his attention back towards Kaz.

“It’s been a rough night so far,” Ocelot begins, walking to Kaz’s seat and leaning in towards him when he gets close enough. Kaz can feel the strum of power in the air. Ocelot’s Hunt is far from over tonight, but he’s looking for a short reprieve before going back out. 

Kaz pushes the chair back, the creaking of the wheels unnerving him. He doesn’t like being confined. He has gotten used to it, but with the type of blood he has, he knows he’s at an overall disadvantage. He’s under Ocelot and Big Boss’ protection, but the quicksilver bullets and repeating pistol he carries proves to anyone who questions his leadership that he pulls his own weight amongst their ragtag group of hunters. He’s had to put down at least a few poor souls who turned; either against him, sensing the blood he has pumping through his veins, or against the Boss. The night of Hunt brings the beast in people to light. It separates those who have been tainted by the blood and those it serves.

A night like tonight is why he allows Ocelot to lean in and bury his face in the crook of his neck. He allows him to breathe deep, to revel in the scent that is Kaz and his blood. The Boss, despite staying away from blood ministrations, would do something similar; bury himself in Kaz. Ocelot, though, is noticeably territorial. Now and then, he will start dragging his teeth against the soft skin, but he never scratches hard enough to break it.

Sometimes, Kaz thinks after placing a hand on the back of Ocelot’s head, it wouldn’t be too bad if he gave his blood to Ocelot like this. To allow him to take it directly from his body, proper procedure be damned, but Ocelot wouldn’t allow it. He has too much pride in his work to give it away. He would never fail Big Boss like that.

On this night, Ocelot doesn’t take it that far. It feels like he almost drifts off into his own thoughts never moving from his spot tucked into Kaz’s neck. And long after Kaz has lost all feeling in his shoulder, he nudges Ocelot to move away. 

Ocelot takes this as a sign to take his leave once again for the night, but instead of turning and leaving Kaz behind he leans back in and nips at Kaz’s lips. He lightly bites until Kaz tastes the tang of blood, pulling away while licking his own blood tinged lips. The brightness in his eyes tells Kaz his blood breathes life inside of him. 

Ocelot says, “Don’t wait up.” on his way out of the room and Kaz calls the man an idiot to his retreating back.

He will count it as a blessing if Ocelot makes it through the night untouched.


	4. Dreams

_“Snake, remember what I’ve told you. Your friends today may be your enemies tomorrow. I have no doubt that there will be a time when you will need to release me from my dream.”_

_He can’t see her face, but the glow of the moon illuminates her in a bright white light. She wears not the dark clothes of a Yharnam Hunter, but garb much like that of Djura; clothing covered in gray-white ash. It casts her in an ethereal glow that doesn’t go unnoticed. She dips her head, the feathers adorning her hat bob in the air with the gesture. She’s reminiscing, but thinking of the future as well._

_“You will have to make a choice.” She says with such certainty that he doesn’t ask her what it is. In his heart, he knows. He isn’t ready to accept that future yet. “All I ask is that you follow your decision until the end.”_

Snake wakes up in the glow of the lantern amidst the overgrown trees of the Forbidden Woods. He stands, breathing in the fresh air of the forest. The stench of blood dissipates in open air and it’s a relief. He pushes on, refusing to recognize the scent of blood that comes with remembering her. The memory of the thick almost black blood that spilled over his body when he swung the saw deep into her flesh was fresh in his mind. It happens every time he awakens from the dream. 

He grips the handle of his trick saw cleaver, turns to the Carrion Crows hiding amongst the tall grass and pushes on.

\---

_Kaz stands before him, whole and full of determination. They would make their mark amongst Hunters, a group separate from the Healing Church and Byrgenwerth._

_“Snake, are you doing alright?”_

_Kaz is now standing next to him in the study, the glow of candles reflect off his tinted glasses. He leans in, looking at Snake’s face with concern._

_“What took you so long?”_

_Kaz looks at him, his eyes squinting in the darkness. Bruises mottle his skin and an IV is hooked to his missing shoulder, the bag held above his head glowing with the light blood that flows through Kaz’s body. Snake cuts his bindings and Kaz laughs. His laughter is deep echo in his chest, the sound of a broken man._

_Snake holds his breath, his heart aching. He’s not prepared to do this._

_“Take me home, Snake.”_

Snake awakens with that pain lingering in his chest. He looks across the lantern to see Ocelot waiting for him. He holds his hand out for Snake to take, which his does with a grunt of effort.

He smells Kaz’s blood on Ocelot. It’s a faint smell, but so recognizable that it bothers him that he can sense it so well. 

He wonders what will become of him when he finally turns. 

“We’re waiting for you, John.”

Snake looks at Ocelot, nods in acknowledgement.

He leaves Ocelot behind, but he’s now holding the vial Kaz gave him close to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to believe that during the time it takes the Hunter to leave and return to the Hunter's Dream, a Hunter relives their memories as if they were in a dream. (Dreaming within a dream perhaps?)


	5. Dregs

_The call of the Great Ones could be felt in the thickness of the air_ , Kaz thinks as he lights another incense burner. The smell of the burning herbs keep the beasts outside at bay, but he’s beginning to hate the smell as it seeps into every orifice of every room of their base. He hates how much the people of Yharnam have changed, how the yearning for blood has caused for the need for hunts like tonight. He breathes in the scented air, hoping the smell would clear his head for a just a little while.

He prepares a place for the men and women the Boss decides to bring back. He’s taken it upon himself to integrate them into their little band of Hunters, speaking well of their Boss, rallying them for their cause. He sends those willing out for small jobs here and there, hoping they return before the moon turns once more. 

His time now is dedicated to lighting more lanterns and burners, hoping to keep most of the outside beasts at bay. He forgoes the wheelchair and walks with his cane, once a useful weapon, now used more for practicality. He always keeps his blunderbuss at his side, a reminder of days gone past and the days to come. 

He knows his time in this world is limited. He can’t leave this place, not now. This building would become his grave as the night goes on. 

He doesn’t flinch when he hears the boots of one of his Hunters come up the wooden steps behind him.

“Sir! We’ve got a few more coming back. Looks like one of them is injured pretty badly.”

Kaz nods, “Make sure they’re cared for as best we can. Keep watch for beats following their blood trail. The more the blood in the air, the more likely we’ll have visitors.”

The Hunter nods and runs off to follow his orders. Kaz watches as they leave, breathing the incense smell deeply before feeling the retch in the back of his throat.

\---

Ocelot grins as he feels the blood wash over his face. There are times where he relishes the hunt, the power he has over the poor beasts of Yharnam. He can see so much, more than the average Hunter and he tries not to let it, for lack of a better phrase, “go to his head.” 

“Your hubris is going to come back and bite you in the ass.” A voice calls from behind.

He tenses his shoulders, but turns away from his fresh kill, ready for the battle of wits that this conversation will inevitably succumb to. As he turns to face the woman behind him, a welcoming smile spreads upon his lips. He’s not on edge every time she comes around, but his guard comes up tenfold.

“Don’t give me that waxen smile of yours, Ocelot. It makes you look twenty years older.” The woman says while pocketing her pistol. She brushes her blond hair from her shoulder, holding the Blade of Mercy in her other hand. They haven’t fought in years, but he can remember the sting of that blade like it were minutes ago. 

“Eva, it’s been quite a while. Enjoying the Hunt tonight?”

“Quit the niceties.” She says, unhooking her blades and snapping them back into place. Ocelot has come to hate that noise. “I’m here to check up on you. Things have already started their motions and the further we go into this mess the harder it will be to keep ourselves afloat.”

“I’m not as young as I uses to be, Eva. I’m not going to go into this blindly. I know I’ve got to watch my step. You do too. We need to make it through the Nightmare. ”

Eva shakes her head, it’s weird how close they’ve become over the years. Reliving the dream over and over has helped more than hindered their relationship. They can do this, Ocelot thinks, they’ve done more of the impossible. This time they’ll be able to go further than they have ever before. 

“How’s he doing?”

Ocelot shakes his head, snorting in laughter. “Perfectly fine, as expected.”

Eva hums and walks to Ocelot, putting an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. He’s come to expect that of her over the years. To be honest, it doesn’t bother him and is actually come to be a comfort. She leans into his side and mutters into his ear, “And your _friend_ back at the base? How’s he?”

“He’s tasting better than he looks right now.”

Eva moves her head away, laughing a little, “You’re joking.”

“Not at all.” He thinks over his next words, not quite sure of what he wanted to tell her and what he should keep to himself. She waits for him, knowing exactly what he’d doing.

“I worry about him. A little bit. His own motivation is what drives him, but with the Boss away right now he’s, for a lack of better words, vulnerable.” He pauses for a second, adding, “He’s not helpless though. Far from it.”

“I can’t see that man as being helpless, but I’m sure things could’ve gone better for him.”

“Iosefka is not what she seems. Snake was lucky to find him when he had. Even if it wasn’t completely in one piece.”

“I heard it was bad.”

“You’ve run into him then?”

Eva shakes her head, smiling sadly, “Not at all. I’ve heard things through my own means. Your little band is making a name of themselves, by the way.”

“Well, you can’t be surprised, with who’s leading them all.”

“Hmm, yeah.” She steps away, pulling the blades in each hand. She looks menacing, her camel-colored leather overcoat painted with dried blood. “Come on, let’s go hunting together, for a just a little bit.”

“You have a mark?”

She nods, “Just follow me. It really shouldn’t take long.”

He pulls the pistols from his holsters, giving them a customary twirl. She rolls her eyes and starts walking off. Ocelot trailing behind her.


	6. Vileblood

Kaz narrowly dodges the shot, a sharp ping that reverberates in the right side of his head. He’s being hunted, was his first thought, but no, there was no follow up to the shot. No swipe of a blade to his back or another gunshot to the back. He spins on his heels towards the origin and finds another Hunter standing there, his face is obstructed by his overcoat, but they bow in greeting, which he hesitantly returns in kind.

“Sorry about the shot. I wanted to make sure I was able to catch your attention before you ran off.”

He speaks with an accent Kaz can’t place. Another outsider? So many people have come to Yharnam seeking blood that it’s become weird to assume that anyone he couldn’t recognize was from the outside. The man steps forward slowly, twirling the pistol in his hand. Kaz would be a bit impressed with the fancy handwork if he weren’t so on edge.

When the man stands before him, he holds out his gloved hand, a sheen of wet blood covered his fingers and palm.

“Ah, had a bit of trouble coming out here to find you. You got your message from Zero, right?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Kaz tightened the grip on his blade, the tension building within him. 

“Yeah, I remember.”

He could tell by the crinkle in his eyes that the man was smiling. This man wasn’t going to be deterred by Kaz’s standoff behavior.

“The name’s Ocelot. As you already know, I’ll be your contact for Big Boss while he’s indisposed.”

Kaz looks at the hand and decides to take it.

“I’m Kazuhira Miller, as you probably already know.”

The grip is firm and warm. Ocelot doesn’t let go right away.

“I want to make this clear. I’m doing this for him. Not for Zero. I need you to understand that.”

Kaz could almost feel the sigh of relief rush through him. He doesn’t trust the man, he has no reason to, but hearing him say that he had no intention of helping Zero puts him at least a little at ease.

“That’s fine. I’m not going to be waiting for him to wake up. I need to make something for myself as well as our dream together. If you’re willing to pull your own weight you can help.”

He felt Ocelot’s grip loosen, his fingers lingering as he slowly pulled his hand away. He does a little flourish with his hands, as he responds with, “I’ll help in any way I can.”

\---

Kaz grits his teeth as he feels the blood leave his body. The open gash on that ran across his chest and belly caused a burning pain with every movement, he can only hope the beast’s claws weren’t poisoned. His legs give out from under him in front of the building he’s called home these past few years. It’s an older building, one with lots of room for everyone’s roles; a place for study, training and rest. It would never replace MSF, but it’s a place he’s willing to build up and make just as prominent.

He could feel consciousness fade when he hears the creak of the front door opening. Seconds later, a voice echoes down the street, the lilt in the tone of his voice was too amused for how Kaz felt at the moment.

“Normally, you don’t bother with knocking, Miller. Lose your key?”

Kaz could feel the frustrated anger course through his body. He wants to punch Ocelot in the face, to yell until his throat was hoarse, but instead he growls out, “Just get me through the damn door or I’ll be bleeding out into the street.”

Ocelot is already leaning down to pick up him by pulling his arm over his shoulder. It hurts to move and it hurts to have the other man’s grip around his waist hold him up, but he allows it because he needs to get off the streets. He needs to make sure this place wouldn’t attract beasts and the church alike. 

They move to a fainting chair not too far from the main hallway. The rooms are dark except for a few candles and a fire that’s burned down to its last embers. He can tell that Ocelot is anything but worried as he makes sure he’s on the couch, as comfortable as he could be with his injuries. With a frown, Ocelot takes out a vial of blood, shaking it in the light. He shrugs a little, leaning over to take out the syringe in Kaz’s pouch, filling what was left of the deep red substance.

“I’ve been saving this one for emergencies for myself, but I’ll help you out this time.” He pauses for a moment before turning his attention back towards the syringe. He taps it, making sure there are no air bubbles inside before leaning over Kaz. He pats the side of Kaz’s face making sure he’s still awake. 

Kaz's blurred gaze looks over at Ocelot as the man leans in close, burying his face in the crook of his neck as the needle stabs into the skin in his leg. Kaz gasps with the shock of the stab, feeling the new blood coursing through his veins. He should be used to this feeling, as a Hunter himself, but he’s never had another person administer blood to him. He could feel it as it reworked his open wounds, feeling a surge of energy throughout his body. 

“Kaz,” Ocelot mutters into the skin of his throat as he removes the syringe just as quickly, Kaz can feel him breath in deeply. He shudders as Ocelot’s words are spoken into his skin, “Your blood smells so sweet.”

Kaz brings up a hand to take hold of Ocelot’s vest, his fingers grip deeply into the cloth. He tries to steady his breath as the blood mixes with his own does its work. 

“Ocelot, don’t test me.”

The man in question chuckles as he pulls away. He brings a hand up to the one gripped into his clothing and gives it a pat. Kaz loosens his fingers and lets his hand fall to his side. He’s exhausted, but the blood has done it’s work. In a few moments, he’ll be willing to move from his place on the chair, his body intact, but his clothing in need of replacement.

“So, you have special blood?”

The question is too personal. Back with MSF, Kaz had been hesitant with telling Snake about his supposed lineage, but in the presence of a fellow Hunter such as Ocelot, it would only have been a matter of time before the man found out. He sighs and shakes his head, giving into the question.

“Something like that. If you want to trace back my lineage you can, but I’m not going give myself away. There are only so many of us left and I’d rather stay alive while being under the eyes of the church.”

Ocelot only nods in answer. Kaz knows he’s a person that he can’t completely trust, but in this certain circumstance, he feels that Ocelot will keep his mouth shut. If an Executioner comes to their little abode, then he’d know who he would rip from the inside out as a beast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to be going a bit more out of chronological event order from now on. Just in case anyone is confused!


	7. Echoes

She stands above what is left of him. The blood is now soaking through his robes and dribbling onto the black stone beneath his body, moving its way towards her feet. He never made a move against her. He just stood there and let her hand plunge into his chest, clutch his heart and end his live in a quick, but painful yank. His life that had always been hers to do with as she pleased. 

It hurt, this reminder of what it is to be a Hunter. She knows that with the first of comrades dead, her time in this dream was nigh. It is bound to happen, whether she becomes a beast like the majority of Yharnam or becomes one “those whose knowledge is endless” whose job is to keep the dream alive.

She looks down at his broken body. He had become enlightened to the point of physical change. His head was now a mass of tissue with dozens eyes, the underside of the mass was where his mouths hid until he had a victim to attack. He was one of those beings that drove the unexpected into a frenzy. His eyes are still staring at her, the mouths’ sharp teeth are visible and gasping for air. She hated what he had become in her absence, how he was taken by the Great Ones and made in their own ghastly image. She can see his chest moving in deep, labored breaths. She was watching him die.

She remembers the not so distant past, where he would speak to the dead, to those she had killed because of their own enlightened and beastly path. She would listen to him hold conversations with them, sit aside as the soul wept out of anger or relief, but she made herself listen. It was the only way she knew how to keep them in her memory and push forward.

_“Don’t cry.”_

He couldn’t physically speak anymore, he hadn’t been able to for years now, but his words echo in her head like the sad tune of the Winter Lanterns that surround them. She could feel the warmth of his blood beginning to cool over her gloves. She doesn’t dare to take it in her. This was her final gift to him. She takes out her stake driver and moves on. 

She will cry later when she allows herself to, once she leaves this nightmare.

\---

He has looked into the many eyes of Amygdala and lived. Venom finds himself waking up on his back staring at a dark ceiling. He coughs as his lungs suck in air, the ache of the giant Great One’s fingers that had gripped and crushed his torso still linger in his ribs. He pushes himself off the ground before moving to light the lantern of unfamiliar building. The dim glow casts just enough light to help his vision become adjusted to the darkness.

The first thing he noticed was that the room smelled. It smelled like old, musty books and general neglect. He could tell with how cluttered the surrounding tables looks, but it was as if the previous inhabitants left in a hurry or that the place in itself was only a glimpse of a place lost in time. The large wooden examination tables were filled with books, jars of unnamed things and abandoned dissections. Nothing seemed to be rotting, just covered in a thin layer of dust and grime.

Outside the room revealed a long, large hall, a second story and rows of tall, looming wooden storage shelves that lined the walls and were stuffed with small jars and dusty books. As he walks further into the hall, his footsteps echo loudly, giving away his location. He can hear beasts breathing from somewhere within the building, but none seem to with within his field of view. His first instinct is to get a better look around, so he goes for the first door across from the lantern room. 

The door blends into the wall, the cracked glass of the small window giving little away from what was actually inside of the room. As his hand reaches for the doorknob, he hears a tapping sound against the door. He turns the knob, realizing that it’s locked.

The sound of laughter comes from above his head, behind the door. He hopes that the owner of the voice on the other side of the door doesn’t notice that he had jumped.

“What a joy it is, to behold the divine.” Venom could hear his mocking smile in that sentence alone. “It must be such a pleasure. You’re in my debt, you know.”

Venom glares at him, so he was the one who had given him the stone. He suddenly remembered this voice from Central Yharnam, speaking through the window, the light and drapery hiding his face. He looks closely at the face staring back at him, trying to see who the other person was. A eerily large bald head looked haughtily back at him. He relaxes just a bit, it doesn’t seem the being in the other room was going to attack, so he listens. 

“You’re nigh a beast on the field, but here you are, treading a measure with the gods.”

He laughs again in a mixture of amusement and mocking. Venom shakes his head, thinking he should leave the thing to itself, but he turns back noticing that the large head hadn’t moved an inch. He can feel his skin crawl when more laughter comes from behind the door.

“Are your feet as fat as your wits? Oh, cease this dithering. Take the plunge! Throw yourself to the wolves.”

He heeds the creature’s words and begins to make his way down the hall. The less time he deals with men or beasts, the happier he’ll be.

\---

He’s soaked to the skin and wading in poison water -or what feels looks like water, his side aching from the impact of the fall from the cliff. Venom can hear that familiar voice cackling in the air above him.

“Don’t dally, you lucky scamp!” The voice calls from above. He can just barely see the legs. Thin, spindly appendages poking over the cliffside. 

“The gift of the godhead cometh!” He calls out again, laughing as he starts moving away from the edge. 

Venom swallows his anger as he gets his antidotes ready. There are Crawlers already moving towards him, their white, slimy bodies cutting through the poisoned water to attack him for invading their territory. He twists his wrist to bring his saw to the ready and swings with vigor; the thing that got him into this mess to begin with forgotten for the time being.


	8. Tides

Strangelove is cradling her child’s head in the crook of her arm as her hurried footsteps echo down the winding alleyways of outer Yharnam. Thankfully, Hal fell asleep about an hour ago, making her movements all that much more easier for the both of them. He was wrapped in a bundle of warm blankets and a lace hood to cover his head. He was still too young to be wrapped up in this mess they all had created for themselves. The boy was growing so fast and Strangelove felt her heart wrench at the thought that she’d never see his smiling face again, never see him grow old... but this was for the best. She had to get him out of Yharnam or else he would be consumed by it.

And then there was Huey…

She finds herself outside of the town’s perimeter. It’s not far enough to tell that the looming moon is different, but far enough that she her absence wouldn’t be noticed by anyone. Not until she walked back into the lab. 

She hugs Hal just a bit tighter to her chest. He was her little beacon of hope in the terrors of this place. To take him away was her only option at this point. Huey had all but been consumed in the experiments of the church and with the way things were going, he would end up making Hal into one of them. 

To be fair, she could condemn him all she wants, but she’s not free of guilt. Her own hands are deeply drenched in the blood ministrations of the church.

She breathes in deep as she sees the carriage for her son’s salvation in front of her. The first time she walked in on Huey at his desk and Hal sitting in a experiment chair. She knew that was it. 

When she stands out of breath in front of the carriage, the door opens and an older man looks out from the seat within. He looks down at her, his mouth covered with a thick scarf as if to keep the taint of Yharnam from his system.

“Are you sure about this, Miss?”

Strangelove almost chokes on the feeling of relief and grief that bubbles up inside of her. She nods and says with a strength she didn’t think she could muster at this moment, “Yes. Very. I need him out of Yharnam and I hope he never makes his way back here.”

The man in the carriage nods, it looks like this was not his first rescue attempt. “Very well. Say your goodbyes and we will be on our way.”

She looks down at her son for what she knows will be the last time. He is, thankfully, still sleeping. His chubby face as serene as can be. She kisses his forehead, brushing a few curls from his face and whispers, “Don’t forget. I will always love you, Hal. Be strong for me.”

With one last squeeze she hands him over, watching as the man takes her child in with him. The carriage door closes with a finality that she didn’t expect. The horse’s trot echoes in her head as she makes her way back to the research lab. 

\---

“What _is_ that?”

Strangelove sighs in annoyance at the sound of Huey’s voice echoing off the hardwood walls of the research room. She really wasn’t in the mood to deal with his inquisitiveness today. Her surgical glove-covered hands were covered in clear, gelatinous pink blood and the poor creature she was examining was split open on the table before her. His interruption wasn’t fair to her or the creature she was working on.

“Honestly, you need to learn how to keep to yourself. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”

Huey, Strangelove has noticed, has a knack for blending into the background whether he’s needed or not. Unfortunately for her, he always seems to be around enough to her from keep her from her work. His interruptions seemed to have gotten worse since they’ve closed the research labs to most hunters. Then there was that whole business with Big Boss’s Hunter team. 

There’s silence in the lab for a few more minutes before Huey’s voice cuts through the air again, “But don’t you find it odd that we’re working on our own now?”

“Hardly.” Short, curt responses were what usually got him to go away. She doesn’t hear the telltale noise of his wheelchair, but after while later she forgets he was in the room all together..

A couple hours later, the autopsy finished to her satisfaction. The poor thing was still somewhat human, their innards unchanged, while their head was the only thing truly affected by the blood they had ingested. While it was fascinating to see how much this changed how the host reacted to the world around them, it was also slightly unnerving how such a bright mind could fall so easily to the Old Blood.

Strangelove turns from her subject and almost jumps when she sees Huey still in the room, sitting in his wheelchair, reading through one of her books on a nearby desk. 

“You’re still here?”

Huey startles from his concentration on the book and turns her head to look at him. He gives a sort of embarrassed half-smile. He points to the book and shrugs, “I was about to leave when I saw your notes on brain fluid. I got a little distracted, I guess.”

Strangelove breathes in deep and slowly releases the air from between her teeth. It’s been hours and right now she would like to rest with her thoughts. Sometimes, though, it’s nice to have company to talk to about her findings.

“Well, I supposed we could talk about that over tea. I need to sit down for a little while, anyway.” 

Huey nods, “Yes, of course.”

 _He sounded much too excited about that_ , she thinks as she walks towards the one of the room. She strips her hands of the surgical gloves and washes them in a water basin. She makes to leave for the room, shaking her head when she hears the familiar noise of the wheelchair moving behind her.

\---

Strangelove can’t move. How ironic that she be tied to a surgical table just like one of her subjects. She’s reminded of the people she helped experiment on; the large, misshapen heads and emaciated bodies. The poor people of Yharnam willingly and unwillingly being used by the Healing Church in their thirst for knowledge. She’ll become one of them now. A mind trapped in the watery depths of the Kosmos. 

Would The Boss be proud of her? Would she be ashamed at how little she was able to accomplish? She could almost feel The Boss’s hands brush against her face gently with her calloused hands. Her voice was an echo from the other end of a long hallway.

Suddenly, her thoughts shift and Hal’s smiling cherubic face flashes before her eyes. She wishes from the bottom of her heart that she could be with him.

She would try to keep as much of her mind as she could, but right now the water fills her senses. Fulfills her in a way that nothing else could. There’s a sound and feeling of rippling water that flows through her thoughts. A loud noise that rushes into her ears- splish, splosh, splish, splosh. 

Her mind swims, her thoughts going so slowly, while at the same time going so fast she felt as if her head would explode. She can almost see The Boss in her mind’s eye. She feels her heart clench, the water suddenly taking her thoughts and feelings, swirling them into something indescribable. She can feel herself laugh suddenly, uncontrollably. Laughing as if she were water lapping up onto the the rocks on a shore. 

splish

splosh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started pulling some stuff from the Old Hunters DLC. I really wanted to include Strangelove somehow and suddenly this whole chapter ended up focusing on her. No regrets.


	9. Vermin

If a look could kill, everyone within a mile radius of Kaz would have been dead and gone. The constant sneer on his face was amusing at first, but now, Ocelot mused, it was starting to get old. The source of his ire could be traced to the locating and arrival of their former comrade, Huey. Venom had come across the man while he was out to find Rom in Byrgenwerth.

Ocelot couldn’t hold back a grin when he saw the look on Kaz’s face as the man strolled through the door as if he belonged there. Venom’s reaction was to keep the two apart; considering Kaz had started to roll his wheelchair up to the Emmerich looking like he’d commit murder in the entryway. And despite the tense entrance, Ocelot noticed that Kaz kept staring at the man’s legs. Huey was walking with an obvious awkward limp, like he was unused to action of getting from “point a to b” under his own leg power.

So, instead of spilling the man’s blood in the entryway, Kaz exiles him to a room in the basement of the house. He is allowed to continue his work, per the Boss’s orders, but Kaz makes sure that he is watched every hour of the day. Sometimes personally.

It comes as no surprise to Ocelot that Kaz would come to see him, the wheels of his chair giving his entrance into the room away. He looks up from his seat, glancing over the old yellowing letter he held in his hands. Ocelot wasn’t busy by any means.He knew exactly where the Boss was and that was all he needed to worry about at the moment.

Kaz wheels around to face him. He looks like he wants to turn around and forget whatever is on his mind, but he steels himself, letting out a deep breath before saying, “I want you to interrogate Emmerich.”

This got Ocelot’s attention. 

“Interrogate him?” Ocelot stares at Kaz, his eyebrow raised in mild interest. He’s not playing coy, necessarily, being an interrogator is what his job has been boiled down to in this ragtag mercenary group of theirs. Taking in the townspeople, outsiders, rogue hunters, anyone the Boss decided to send back; his job was to convince them to join. Or, if they refused (Which didn’t last. No one could refuse him forever. He had a 100% success rate), they were kept for interrogation purposes until they gave in. Intel on the Healing Church was few and far between, those who know how deep Yharnam’s past went were usually very unwilling to give away anything that they knew. In the end, he doesn’t mind it too much; anything he could do to help the Boss’s purpose.

“I want to know where he’s been. What he’s done. Anything about what happened that night because the very fact that he’s in this building with me makes me want to tear his lying throat out.”

“Miller,” Ocelot places the letter on the empty space next to him and waits for Kaz to calm down. He could see how worked up the man was getting with his hand in a tight fist and the strain of the muscles in his neck. Kaz being worked up is a piece of work to behold. When his breathing evens out and the angry flush in his face fades to a lighter pink, Ocelot continues, “I’ll do it. He’s good intel and I have no doubt he knows about the Church’s research, we can get that info to the Boss.”

He scoots towards Kaz, leaning over so that they’re face to face. Kaz’s eyes are hidden behind the tinted glass of his specs, but the anger is still evident from the way his mouth is stuck in a perpetual frown and the furrow in his brow. Ocelot brings a gloved hand to the nook between Kaz’s shoulder and neck, lightly kneading the tension in his muscles. The other man tenses (somehow moreso) at first, he doesn’t move, allowing it while he waits for whatever Ocelot needs to say to him.

“Your anger is intoxicating, you know.” Kaz’s frown deepens, but he says nothing waiting for Ocelot to finish. “You could sense it though, couldn’t you? He’s carrying the blood of the Old Ones.”

“I think it’s how he’s walking.” Kaz answers with a growl. 

Ocelot nods, acknowledging that was the same line of thought he had. He moves his hand as he leans in close, murmuring into the space where his hand had been.

“We’ll keep an eye on him.” He turns his head and nuzzles into the side of Kaz’s neck. He can feel the call of the the beast inside of him yearn for Kaz’s blood. He feels Kaz’s hand come to rest against the back of his head, pushing him just a bit closer. Ocelot hums in question, listening to the growling voice that rumbles through Kaz’s body.

“Keep going.”

As Kaz’s words drift into his ears, Ocelot begins to nip at the neck his face was nuzzled into. He breathes in the scent of the forbidden blood that runs through the other man’s veins and gives his thanks to the unearthly being watching over them that he had not been swayed to join the Executioners.


	10. Kin

Rom reminds Venom of the moon.

She pulls at him, like the tides, while not doing a thing from ways away across the lake. The water doesn’t engulf his feet as he’d originally thought assumed when landing in this netherspace. The fog is thick, Rom’s body dark spot in the distance, but this place is peaceful. The soothing sound of water rippling surrounds engulfs the area. 

Venom turns to look behind him, to assess where he fell. Byrgenwerth is nowhere to be found. He is entirely in this Great One’s realm.

So he walks, towards the dark gray blob in the distance, waiting for Rom to make the first move.

She doesn’t though. Instead, sways in place, dancing on her small spider-like legs while staring at nothing in particular. She makes no sudden movements, not when Venom started to walk towards her or when he stood to face to face with her. She looks blankly at him. Her head’s shape reminds him of an oval-shaped peach pit, each crevice holding one of her many of small, black eyes. He thinks she’s looking at him, but it’s hard to tell. Either way, she still does nothing. 

He looks at her; her large green-gray body with iridescent plants growing from it sways with each tiny leg’s movement. Rom is a legend amongst the people of the church. The story that passes from mouth to mouth says that she was once human, chosen by the Great Ones to become one herself. She was the one who was able to transcend humanity. If she had been human once, she showed no sign of it now.

The Vacuous Rom, the legendary proof of the Church’s evolutionary triumph.

Venom looks at her straight in the eyes. Knowing what he must do. He had to push forward, just like he did and the Boss before them.

He readied his axe and swung down in order to continue the cycle.

\---

A woman in a black, singed cowl stands on the path leading up to of the old Workshop, head cocked to the side. She nods in greeting to the Plain Doll before her. The doll, a lonesome figure amongst the workshop’s path and graves, reciprocates with a bob of her pale white head. The woman holds her hand out to her, waiting for the doll to do what she was created to do.

“Let the echoes become your strength.”

The woman in the cowl has done this same routine hundreds of times by now. She closes her eyes and wait for the power to flow through her. The warmth of the glow tingles her fingers as the doll works the blood echoes for her. The woman waits patiently until the doll is finished, anxious to head back out to the nightmare.

Once the tingling stops, she slowly opens her eyes. The doll looks at her, expecting, wondering if there was anything else needed of her. The woman in black shakes her head and steps away. The doll nods, understanding.

“Farewell, good hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world.”

The woman in black bows a Hunter’s bow and turns to make her leave. Itching to make use of the rifle in her left hand.

\---

Another prey slaughtered.

The echoes of the Great One wash over him, the blood not as pale as he’d assumed to begin with now coats his clothing. Rom had screamed in a terrifying otherworldly voice when she died, but the satisfaction of a job well done kept him from dwelling on any guilt he may have had. The water washes against his boots, the illusion of the lake doesn’t change after Rom disappears. He looks ahead, breathing out a sigh of relief when he sees the lantern. He’s about to run to it when out of the corner of his eye stands a woman.

She dressed in an extravagant pure white wedding gown. Her pallor was much the same as the dress, white and unearthly. The first thing that crosses his mind is that she could be a ghost., much like the ghostly ladies that infested the Castle Cainhurst. He decides to slowly move closer, the broken sobs of her voice echoing over the water splashing with each footstep. The closer he is the more he can recognize her features. She wore a large ruffled collar over her long slender neck, her cheeks sallow, but she stood tall and regal, even with the fresh bloodstain running from her stomach down the front of her dress.

As Venom comes close she suddenly stops sobbing, then slowly looks up to the sky. Venom pauses and turns to do the same.

The moon, so white before, was now awash in a dark orange-red tinge. The moon’s presence drew in him, he couldn’t look away. He could hear a baby’s cry gradually getting louder and louder, the moon itself, coming closer and closer. He could feel the pressure building inside his head, the baby’s voice growing louder, he closes his eyes, trying to block out the moon. Soon everything becomes too much and he blacks out.

Venom awakens in the large silver tub that sits in the center of a familiar church. He attempts to stand, his balance off center, so his body tips back enough for him to look above and see a lesser Amygdala gripping the wall and ceiling above the door in front of him. He gasps, looking around wildly, trying to find his bearings. 

He’s been here before, this abandoned church of old located down an off path from the Grand Cathedral. He stumbles back out of the tub, staring up at the lesser Amygdala with wariness. The door under the Great One - this time, he has a key to open that door. So he makes a mad dash for it, ignoring the massive creature above him. Fortunately, he makes it through, the crackle, sucking noise of the Amygdala’s power is heard from behind him. He doesn’t wait to see what it was that the Amygdala was doing, instead. he runs down the stairs into the open air of a ruined city. 

This was Yahar’gul, the unseen village, infested with lesser Amygdala and awash in the blood red moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why, but this chapter was hard to write. Wording descriptive visuals can be diificult sometimes.


	11. Bone Marrow Ash

She remembers she had met Gehrman before his timely demise when she first entered the dream. Not long after, she had watched two snakes emerge from a burning Workshop, one taking up his blade to the old man and the other moving onto the Nightmare that all Hunters fear in their hearts. She only remembers this in the back of her mind as her foggy memories become jumbled. She is certain that this was the order in which those events happened.

The Nightmare has been her home since her first “death”. Bits of her skin black and charred, flecks of flesh hardened along parts of her body. She awakens from the dream to find the truth for herself.

She knows she lives because of the blood the Church administered to her on the brink of death. She knows the Old Blood runs through her veins, that feeling of divinity and power which keeps her from crumbling from the inside out. She’s gotten used to the pain, a dull hum in every movement she makes. 

Recently, she’s made her home on the rooftops of Old Yharnam, observing the humans-turned-beasts with a disdainful eye. They leave her alone once they know she’s not a threat and she is able to roam free without worry of Djura, the retired hunter’s, retaliation. Despite the smell of ash and cinder, Old Yharnam is now quiet, peaceful. She hears the beasts’ cries in the night, watches Djura and his hunter associate keep watch over the empty charred crust that were once streets and buildings. This place, despite being practically burned to the ground, is still inhabited by humans turned beasts.

The retired hunter Djura was old. Not extremely, but you could see the age reflecting in the lines on his face and the gray tinge of his hair. He was a tired man. Someone who had done and seen too much, that only reason he lives is through his own perseverance.

She’s had “conversations” with Djura before. The man was oddly interesting despite how mad he must have been to go up against the church and it’s lot of hunters. On one foggy evening, the old hunter waved her over (she wondered how he could spot her from her perch, especially in that weather). He introduced himself and thankfully didn’t ask about her appearance. He never expected her to talk in response, but carried on a conversation by her mannerisms. She was thankful and felt oddly at ease.

He then pointed to her rifle, his uncovered eye looking sharply at it and asked. 

“That rifle, may I take a look at it?”

She stared at him, unsure if she should unarm herself. She thought over the pros and cons, coming to her conclusion by taking her gun and holding it out to him. To her surprise, he didn’t touch it, only looked at it closely with his sharp eye. He brought a hand to his chin and hummed and he stared at the flintlock and the engravings on the handle.

“You’ve found this, haven’t you? I thought you’d be a bit young to be a powder keg. I was sure I wouldn’t expect to find many more left around.” 

She cocks her head to the side, waiting for him to continue. She didn’t need to say where she got her rifle from, she knew he could tell who she had scavenged it from.

“I can improve it with a little elbow grease. If you want, but I do have to name a price. Not in currency, no, but an arrangement. There’s no doubt that you’ve seen the large door on that old building over there.” He points to the South of where they stood. She nods and waits for him to continue.

“Now that building is what connects Old Yharnam to Cathedral Ward and every now and then some up-and-coming Hunter will see the note I’ve posted, ignore it and enter this place. I would like you, my dear, to assist in stopping those hunters from killing any of the inhabitants of this place.”

She looks at him, cocking an eyebrow. 

“You would be assisting me in order for your weapon to change into one that no hunter or beast has ever laid eyes upon. This watch, this is my penance for what has befallen the men, women and children of this accursed place. But for you, this arrangement would also allow you to keep an eye out for your mark. Though, despite the color, you don’t look like any Crow I’ve ever known.”

The statement surprises her. She must have been under his watchful eye for a while for him to discern why she was staying in Old Yharnam to begin with.

“You have the eyes of an eagle and the blood of kin running through you. I know you watch that door and the streets around here. There are only so many places for a hunter to run. You shall find them, for certain, by watching that door.”

She thinks it over, going over the pros and cons of giving him her weapon. After a few minutes, she holds it out to him, motioning for him to take the weapon. He nods and takes it in hand, looking even more closely at the lock.

“I’ll be sure to get this back to you as soon as possible. Take this for now.”

He holds out a pistol already inlaid with bloodgems. 

“Nothing special unfortunately, but I’m not one for keeping someone unarmed while I work this. Now scuttle off and leave me be. I’ll be relying on you for a bit.”

She hesitated, but left with a nod. Jumping down off the tower (not without a startled protest from Djura) and quickening to another building. She would make a nearby tower her lookout until her weapon was ready. 

\---

She spotted him weeks later. Her mark, pushing the large doors open, looking haggard and blood-soaked. The newly repaired rifle in hand felt natural, an extension of her body. Djura had done nice work. The flintlock was modified, molded into something that would allow for rapid fire shots. He had also added a type of monocular to the barrel. 

_“You seem to like long shots. This would help for accuracy.”_

With her eye looking through the end of the glass, she couldn’t agree more. As soon as he stepped towards the bridge into town, she aimed and shot. She watched with satisfaction as the bullet hit his knee. The man stumbled, but shook off the injury and kept moving. 

She knew Djura was watching, having given his warning to the man when he first came into view. She, however, didn’t hesitate in her next shot. A quicksilver bullet to the back of the man’s head. This time he fell to the ground, the beast that normally patrolled the bridge began moving towards him. She quickly aimed and shot the man again before the beast could make any attack against him. 

His body dissolved into the light and dust of falling back into the dream and she turned around to look towards Djura with contentment. He nodded back and they both waited for the man to come back from the dream again.

\---

She dreams of fire. 

How her skin hardened, broke and melted under the extreme heat of the flames. How the villagers just watched, the priests in their damned black robes held the torches to make sure the fire stayed strong. A loud voice rang in the air and she was removed before she could die, kept alive by some unknown liquid dripping into her throat and brought to a cold, unwelcoming room where the priests in white stood over her with an intravenous drip to her right and a set of needles to her left. 

The pain was excruciating but she could not scream or speak. Her throat felt as if it were hollowed out. Her mouth tasted like ash.

So she watched what they did and she memorized their faces. She would come for each and everyone of them and vengeance would be sweet.  
\---

She awoke in the bed of a small, modestly furnished room. This was not Old Yharnham, that much she could tell. Footsteps could be heard from the other side of the door and after a pause, it gently swung open. Her first instinct was to search for her gun, to get out as fast as she could, but she she couldn’t move. Her limbs felt sluggish and heavy, as if she were drugged. So she watched and waited, nothing good ever came of acting rashly.

“You gave the Boss quite a workout back there.”

It was a man’s voice, low and smooth, watching as he shut the door behind him. He was an older man, his silver-gray hair poking over his coat’s collar. She could tell he was a Hunter by the garb he wore, the thick leather coat adorned with pistols. He had a soft smile on his face, looking down at her in the bed she was occupying. She quelled the urge to take him out and bolt from this place. She had to get out of here to take her mark out.

“Now, as I understand it, you’ve been brought here under the Boss’s orders.” He nods his head towards the door, as if that man were standing on the other side of the doorway. “The second in command wants you dead, but why waste someone so talented? You’ve been touched by the Great Ones and sent back into the world, right?”

She scoffs at the ridiculous notion that any of what has happened to her could be considered a blessing. She watches him laugh at her response. 

“Blessing or not, you’ve got their blood running through your veins. We don’t see many walking charred corpses around here. So whether you’re part kin, beast or anything else, is no matter to me. We need you. That’s what I’ve come to say. The Boss thinks the same. I just wanted you to be aware of that.”

She doesn’t say much of anything, but he nods his goodbye as he leaves the room. She stays in bed and closes her eyes; thinking of blood, fire and death.

She plans for an escape.


	12. Brain Fluid

He has walked this awful, worn path before. There is a sickly stream of blood running under the black leather boots covering his feet, rivers of blood and muck running beneath this twisted city of nightmares. The stench of iron and death fills his senses as he grips the blade in hand. The Hunters here know his face, but they attack with such venom and vigor that he relishes when they scream their last and turn to dust. With blood on his blade he keeps moving forward, ignoring the croaks and moans of the skeletal bodies he treads over.

He knows what faces him at the end of this Nightmare; an eternal damnation of living his past transgressions repeatedly. Determined, he tries not to choke on the stench in the air. Tries not to see his own reflection in the blood beneath him. There’s no need for any earthly ties in this Nightmare.

He remembers seeing her face, pale and ethereal in the moonlight. She stood silently amidst a garden of lumenflowers, staring up at the sky, a thin sheen of rain falling around them. She held her hand to the sky, muttering something he could not hear before bringing her fist close to her heart. A second later, she turns to look at him, tired and determined. He watches her mouth open, trying to hear the words she speaks to him, but her voice is lost over the sound of rain hitting the blooming flowers around them.

He is barely ready to defend himself as she attacks. During their fight he thinks of what could have been, what _should_ have been. He’s lived with standing over her dying body more times that he wish to count. Her blood is so pale, almost silver in the light of the moon. The echoes he feels running through his veins, a soft kiss of moonlight throughout his body.

But here he is again, making his way back to her once again. He will take her life once repeatedly in this Nightmare, replacing her guilt with all of his sins.

\--- 

Under the glow of a small kerosene lamp, Kaz sits back and watches the interrogation unfold from behind a steel operating table in the corner of the gray stone basement room. It’s cool down in this part of the building, this being a separate room from the cellar where they store their food and other supplies. The basement was large enough to house few rooms closed off to the rest of the staff for “interrogation” purposes. This room is part of Ocelot’s domain within Diamond Dogs, he brings results and information. Kaz doesn’t question what goes on down here.

But today he’s here now, watching Ocelot slowly pace around Huey’s restrained body. 

Huey was strapped to a chair in a style that Ocelot claimed “was only appropriate for this interrogation.” His arms were strapped by the wrists to the armrests, his legs to each chair leg while his chest was strapped securely to the back of the chair. Kaz doesn’t comment on the restraints, wondering if he Ocelot will ever elaborate, annoyed when the other hunter keeps his attention to their captive instead. The pacing seems to unnerve Huey, who doesn’t struggle as much as look like a rat caught by a hungry cat, which gives Kaz a bit a thrill. He’s the observer in this situation, but he’s also in control of the situation. Kaz will let Ocelot do his thing until he feels the need to step in. 

The silence in the room stretches for an uncomfortable amount of time. Kaz stays silent as Ocelot’s footsteps are the only sound echoing off the walls other than the ragged breathing coming from Huey. Kaz watches, thinking Huey will be the first to break the silence. He knows why he’s there, it’s just a matter of time until he spills the answers they want out of him.

With a growl, Kaz’s predictions come true when Huey spits out, “Come on! Get it over with! You hunters with your self-proclaiming righteousness and ‘holier than thou’ attitude over the people of Yharnam... it makes me sick!”

Ocelot stops his pacing, looking right at Huey. It takes a moment for him to respond, as if waiting for Huey to calm down from his sudden outburst before proceeding. Ocelot shrugs at the outburst, the heel of his boot tapping as takes a step and turns on it slowly, methodically walking away from his captive. 

“I can’t speak for the all the church, but I find it strangely ironic that you claim that it’s just us hunters who feel righteous in our actions.” Kaz can see the small smile on Ocelot’s face. With these words, he knows the man is baiting Huey. “Especially someone like you, with all you’ve done up to now.”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

Huey’s voice echoes desperately against the walls. Kaz stares through his shades, watching the man come undone before his eyes. It couldn’t be this easy.

“And Strangelove? What about her? Was there a choice?”

The question cut through the air. Kaz frowns, he can’t remember if or when he had mentioned Strangelove’s name to Ocelot. He refrains from saying anything, watching as the look on Huey’s face goes from anger to hopeless in a matter of seconds. His eyes are watery, shifting back and forth between Ocelot and the wall as if waiting for something to save him. Ocelot, on the other hand, reaches into his back pouch and pulls a small vial from it. He holds it up to the light, admiring the contents and it swirls around the small glass.

“W-what is that?”

Huey shifted in his chair, trying to get a better look at the vial, but almost groaned in frustration when Ocelot palmed it with a grin. 

“You met her there, didn’t you? Years ago.”

Huey freezes, Kaz watches, interested in where Ocelot was going.

“You say you respected her work and eventually, you fell in love with her… despite her disinterest.”

There was a small sound of a whimper coming from Huey’s direction. Ocelot was definitely onto something.

“The experiments brought you together, didn’t it? The dim rooms and all of those… patients.. You both were doing exactly what they church wanted you to do, right?”

“Of course!” Huey croaks out. “What else could we do? We were all doing what we thought would help the cause. To help the people of Yharnam. Who wants what happened to Old Yharnam to happen again?”

“Huey,” Ocelot moves to kneel in front of Huey. He holds out the vial making sure the man gets a good look at it’s contents. “I find it hard to believe that the church told you to use this.”

“N-no, they-- you don’t understand!” 

“Experimenting on people with the blood of the a great one. It goes further than that though, doesn’t it?”

“It didn’t! I had no choice! She-” Huey cut himself off mid-sentence when the scraping of a chair came from the other end of the room. The panic in his face seemed to grow tenfold, as if he forgot Kaz had been in the room with them all along.

“Keep going, I’m interested in what she had to do with any of this.”

“She was part of it along and you know it!” Huey says in desperation. Ocelot watches, swirling the vial of liquid within Huey’s view, making sure the man remembered who held the reigns in this situation. “I had to-- All I wanted to do was see my son again! How is that so hard to understand?”

Ocelot stopped swirling the vial, looking straight to Kaz. This was new information. 

“So there was a child.” Ocelot slowly repeats the information aloud and the sentence seems to break something within Huey. He takes a deep ragged breath and starts to wail. He keeps repeating the words, “My son, my son” over and over. So much so that Ocelot takes out the vial to try to placate him.

It seems to work. The liquid causes his voice to subside, drift off into a murmured echo. Kaz doesn’t know what’s happening, but he watches as Ocelot takes out a syringe and starts pulling the bright milky liquid from the vial. Kaz notices the straining muscles in Huey’s neck and the glassiness of his eyes in the light. He’s afraid of whatever Ocelot is holding, but he keeps his mouth closed.

“You know where this comes from and you know what it can do.” Ocelot says, slowly waving the syringe in the corner of Huey’s eyes. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have first hand experience with this.”

“How would this help you at all?” Huey croaks out. 

Ocelot grins, shaking his head, “You assume I don’t know what happened all those years ago. What sins you and all of those other church members were apart of.”

“You can’t blame all of us for that! What happened then - it’s over and done with. We could only move forward from that point on. What else could I do? We had no choice but to--”

“Now THAT’S a goddamn likely excuse,” Kaz’s biting voice echoes in the room. “You’re just one of those poor souls who got caught up in the frenzy, you had no choice whatsoever in doing what you did, is that it?”

Ocelot looks towards his cohort, face impassive, but watching intently. He wasn’t going to let Kaz mess up his interrogation, even if the man had been the one to request it in the first place. He knows what Kaz is like when his anger gets the better of him. At times like these, he needs to be the one with a cool head.

Kaz makes to move from his seat, the sharp tap of the cane echoing on the stone floor of the room as he shifts his body to stand behind the table. The tapping of the cane causes Huey to flinch with each step Kaz makes towards him. Ocelot stays close, watching the scene unfold before him. Kaz leans forward, his face extremely close to Huey’s. The bound man slowly leans back, trying to avoid the sudden lack of personal space he was faced with.

“You don’t-- you can’t understand what we were dealing with!” Huey’s voice was borderline hysterical. “That child was the answer! Not just for us, but for _everyone_.”

“And what about Strangelove?” Kaz spits out.

“Sh-she was there with us. The whole time. She---” 

Huey’s voice cuts off, his labored, shaky breath echoing against the wall. Kaz watches as his captive’s eyes seem to go unfocused, staring blankly ahead of him. Kaz glances towards Ocelot as he takes a step back, humming in satisfaction. Ocelot knows Huey isn’t broken, but he’s thinking of a way out of this. He’s not going to break this time, so Ocelot is going to have to end this “session” for now.

“What did you do?” Kaz growls out, his attention turning back to Huey, whose head was beginning to bob to and fro. 

“The same thing he did to Strangelove.” Ocelot said with calm, almost passive tone. 

Kaz stares at Huey, watching the man’s eyes glaze over and a small smile slowly spread across his face, “What’s happening to him?”

“Not a lot right now.” Ocelot places the used syringe on the table, placing the vial next to it. Kaz reaches over and looks at the liquid within the glass. It looked like a mixture of milk and quicksilver, having an almost metallic sheen in the light. “He’s going to be a little out of it for a while. I’d say we can leave him be for now. His mind has take leave of his body, if you want to put it that way.”

Kaz sighs and pokes his finger into Ocelot’s chest as he starts to walk out of the room, “Next time, we need to get more information.”

“Next time we’ll make sure we don’t need to rely on him for assisting the Boss,” Ocelot says with a shrug following the other man out of the room. He’ll be back for Huey in a few hours, as from there they’ll start this session again.

\---

He could hear the purring noise from afar as he walks the side path leading away from Yahar’gul Chapel. In the distance, he see’s it, a large beast resting in a small clearing between to oversized doors, effectively sealing him in the area. As the purring gets louder, so does the hum in the air. He had heard of the legend of this creature, “Darkbeast,” if he remembers the moniker right. It fit the description, a large skeletal creature with an eerily human skull. It’s body was covered in long dark hair and there was a distinct crackle of electricity that surrounded it. As he drew close to the clearing, Venom could see the dark eye sockets following him, waiting for him.

The beast is large, his body towering over Venom as he gets his saw blade at the ready. 

Darkbeast Paarl doesn’t roar, but screeches as Venom rushes towards him, tucking into a roll and moving in for the first hit. Electricity buzzes all around him, making the hair on his head stand on end. The noise of it hums loudly in his ears, he all but narrowly misses a claw to the chest as he dodges away. He brings his blunderbuss up to aim at Paarl’s face, a direct hit. 

Paarl falls into a heap, his electrical charge dissipates and Venom takes advantage of this chance. He pulls his hand back and reaches into the beast’s head for a visceral attack. 

Venom could feel the warmth flow around his hand along with the pulse of a living creature. _This beast had once been human_ , he thinks as he wrenches his hand free. He could feel the warmth of the gore between his fingers cooling in the air around them, the blood shining pale white in the moon’s light. He gets his saw blade ready as Paarl shakes himself from his dazed state. 

With a sudden crack of energy, Paarl heaves himself back up with a screech that Venom tries to ignore as much as he can. Venom throws his arm back and brings the saw blade down upon Paarl’s body with a sickening crack. Paarl shifts back, raising a claw to attack as Venom rolls in towards the beast’s body. The claw comes down, but Venom’s movement was faster as he throws the saw blade into Paarl’s face mid-swipe.

The beast cries out in anguish as it’s body begins to dissipate in what looks to be a cloud of ashen water. Venom takes in a deep breath as he feels the echoes flow through his veins. He turns around and walks to the center of the field, raising his hand to light the lantern with a snap of his fingers. With a self-satisfied nod, he turns away from the light towards the large doors separating Yahar’gul from Old Yharnam. He plants both of his hands on the wooden panels and pushes, releasing when he feels the weight give and the doors swing open just enough to walk through them comfortably. With a sigh, he shifts his grip on his saw blade handle and starts on this familiar path into Old Yharnam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait on this chapter! RL issues on top of completely rewriting bits of this piece added all up in the end. It's a bit longer than usual, so I hope that makes up for it a little! And a thank you to everyone for reading!


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